FIC One Track Mind (1/1) (BUFFY)

Title:  One Track Mind
Author:  blairprovence
Rating:  PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s):  Buffy
Warnings:  Spoilers up to season 4
Disclaimer:  All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al.
Summary:   Buffy has a tendency to...focus quite strongly on her romances.  That's a good thing, right?


( One Track Mind )

By Blair Provence

 

 

 

      "I'll miss you."

 

      "Me, too," said Riley, and then he kissed her again. "I wish I could show you Iowa."

 

      "I wish I could see it," she agreed. "But I won't fit in your luggage, and there's a distinct lack of fundage for an airline ticket."

 

      "It's only a week," he pointed out, trying to sound encouraging.

 

      "It'll be the longest week of my life," Buffy told him, presenting her lips for another kiss.

 

      "Mine, too," he agreed when they came up for air.  "Just...try to keep busy, I guess. Spend some time with your friends."

 

      "Huh. Never thought of that." She reached out to rub her hands across his muscular chest. His plane took off in three hours, and she figured they'd really already spent enough time talking.

 

 

*****

 

 

      His words came back to her after he'd finally left, taking Graham up on his offer of a ride to the airport. She hadn't seen Willow for a while, and thus hadn't had a chance to fill her friend in on the progress of her relationship with Riley. They'd been discussing the "m" word rather seriously of late, and she was sure Willow would be thrilled for them. She decided to drop by Stevenson to talk to her about it.

 

      The dorm looked about the same as it had when Buffy had lived there, before she moved out to bunk with Riley. The two of them had been living together in a de facto sort of way for months before that, and to Buffy's way of thinking it seemed stupid to keep another residence just to store her clothes, so they had decided to make it official. After all, Willow understood what it was like to want to be with your honey all the time, and, besides, she could always use extra room for witchy stuff--even if that only meant getting Amy a bigger Habitrail.

 

      Buffy knocked on the door. A pretty Asian girl opened it and regarded her  with a "Yes?" expression.

 

      "I'm looking for Willow," Buffy said.

 

      "Willow..." the girl replied, frowning.

 

      "Yeah, Willow *Rosenburg*. This is her room."

 

      "Oh, the Wicca?" the girl replied. Buffy nodded. "She moved out before last semester--somewhere off campus, with her girlfriend."

 

      "Her who?"

 

      The girl waved a hand. "Girlfriend, lover, lesbian life partner--whatever they're calling it nowadays. Not that there's anything wrong with that, of course, but I never know the terminology."

 

      This made no sense whatsoever. "We're talking about Willow, right? About yea high, with red hair."

 

      "Yes," the girl agreed. "The witch."

 

      "Uh, do you know where she lives now?"

 

      "Nope, sorry." The girl shrugged and shut the door.

 

      Buffy stared blankly at the door for a moment before turning to stomp off. Willow had moved? Willow was a lesbian? 

 

      Willow had a *lot* of explaining to do.

 

 

*****

 

 

      She decided to check out the magic shop while she was downtown picking up Riley's birthday present. There was a good chance that they had Willow's new address, but on her way there she caught sight of a familiar figure who would *definitely* know it driving a blue convertible down the street.

 

      "Xander!" she shouted, chasing his car. "*Xander*!"

 

      After a couple of lights he looked back and caught sight of her. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and waited for her to catch up.

 

      She vaulted the passenger side door and collapsed into the seat next to him. "Hey, Xand. Didn't you hear me calling?"

 

      "Sorry," he said. "I'm running a little late for work and I've gotta stop by Giles's place first and drop something off."

 

      "Oh, Giles's, great! I'll go with you. And you shouldn't worry about being late for work--so it takes people a little longer to get their pizzas. No big."

 

      He glanced over at her. "I haven't delivered pizzas for a while, Buffy."

 

      She realized he wasn't wearing a normal Xander outfit, but a nice blue polo and khaki slacks. A uniform, maybe? 

 

      At that moment the car passed the movie theatre and Buffy was distracted by the titles on the marquee. The new John Cusack film was out--from the preview it was a definite chick flick—and she smiled as she considered various ways of persuading Riley to take her to see it. It took her a moment to realize Xander had turned down an unfamiliar street.

 

      "Uh, Xand, where are you going? Giles's is back that way."

 

      He shot her an unreadable look. "His old place, yeah. I'm going to his new place."

 

      New place? But the expression on his face guaranteed that she wasn't going to ask.

 

      A few minutes later Xander pulled up in front of a modest two-story brick house, grabbed a paper bag from the back seat, and got out of the car. Buffy followed him up the front walk and watched as he raised his fist to knock. "What's that about, Xander?" she asked, reaching for the doorknob. "This is *Giles's* place."

 

      He gently pushed her hand away and knocked again. "Yeah, well, we don't want to walk in on anything."

 

      She laughed. "Oh, right. C'mon, Xand, we're talking about Mr. 'Has No Life' here. Are you afraid you'll interrupt his cross-referencing?"

 

      The opening of the door cut off his reply, and Buffy found herself looking up at a tall, pretty woman with her hair up in a messy chignon. She wore a lightweight blue sleeveless dress that did nothing to hide her visible pregnancy. "Xander!" She reached for him and gave him a quick hug. "I'm so glad you made it before we had to leave."

 

      "Sorry I'm late. Anya and I just got back ourselves about an hour ago. I think I should have just taken another day off work, but I didn't want to get even more behind."

 

      "Don't worry about it, it's no problem at all." The woman smiled at him and glanced toward Buffy. "Oh, where are my manners? Come in, Xander, come in...?" Her voice trailed off into a question.

 

      "Buffy," Buffy told her shortly as she stepped inside. Who was this woman? What was she doing answering Giles's door? And why was Giles's door here instead of across town?

     

      "Really?" the woman asked as she sidestepped a pile of luggage next to the wall. "Oh, it's so nice to meet you, I've heard so much about you."

 

      "Can't say the same for you," Buffy muttered under her breath as she sat down on the couch.

 

      Xander shook his head at her and handed his paper bag to the woman. "Here's the rough draft. Now, look, I know he said he wanted a chance to read it before I did my revisions, but this *is* your vacation, so feel free to hide it under the mattress or something. But remember to bring it back, okay? I'll only have another month or so before it's due."

 

      "No problem, sweetie," the woman told him. "And we have two weeks, so don't worry about him finding time to read it."

 

      Xander smiled at her. "You and Giles really need to look up the word 'vacation' in the dictionary, you know? Now, can I help take some of your luggage to the car before I go?"

 

      She laughed and pointed at two small suitcases next to the larger pile of luggage. "*Those* are mine, Xander. The rest is Rupert's. But I would appreciate the help very much." 

 

      He grinned and grabbed three of the largest suitcases. "No problem. Bye, Buffy," he called over his shoulder.

 

      "Bye," she told him absently as she studied the woman--pretty, in an older sort of way, Buffy decided, but totally wrong for Giles, of course. Was that why he'd kept her a secret?

 

      The woman busied herself with last minute packing. "We're having a dinner party the Friday after we return, Buffy," she said over her shoulder. "Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara will be there.  You're welcome to come, and bring along with your boyfriend, of course."

 

      "I think I might be busy," Buffy told her flatly.

 

      "Well, if you find you're free...." The woman snapped her purse shut and turned to call up the stairs. "Rupert, honey, we really need to leave now!"

 

      "Coming," he replied from somewhere above.

 

      The woman grabbed her two bags and headed out the door.  "Goodbye, Buffy. It was very nice to meet you."

 

      "Yeah, right," Buffy said to the door as it closed behind her. She turned at the sound of feet on the stairs to see Giles descending, dressed in jeans and a gray button-down shirt, a leather bag over his shoulders. His face brightened as he caught sight of her.

 

      "Buffy! I didn't know you were here. It's so wonderful to see you!"

 

      Now *that* greeting was more like it, Buffy thought as she crossed the floor to give him a hug. "Hey, Giles."

 

      "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned as ever.

 

      "Fine," she sighed, slouching back toward the couch. "But Riley's out of town for a week. I miss him so much, Giles."

 

      "Yes, well..." He reached down to pick up the remaining bags. "I'm sorry I haven't any time to talk just now. We're taking a two-week vacation for our first anniversary, and we really must leave now to make our reservations."

 

      "You're *leaving*?" she asked incredulously.

 

      "Hmm." He slung the last duffel over his right shoulder.  "But do stay, and make yourself at home. Just lock up before you go, all right? We'll be back in two weeks." A moment later the door shut behind him.

 

      Buffy flopped back against the couch cushions and scowled.  How could he just *go* like that? And what did he mean about 'first anniversary'? Had he married that woman? How could he keep secrets like that?

 

      He probably knows she just came on to him to get close to the Slayer, she thought. I can't believe how naive he's being.

 

      A photo album on the coffee table caught her eye, and she leaned forward to open it up. It was full of wedding pictures and snapshots from what looked like the reception. There were a few of Willow—who had apparently been a bridesmaid--dancing with a girl with long blonde hair.

 

      Must be the lesbian life partner, Buffy thought, angry anew at her friend's secretiveness.

 

      There were many photos of Giles and his nameless bride, of course, but also shots of him dancing with Willow, the blonde girl, Amy (apparently no longer a rat), Cordelia, and even Joyce!  The bride danced with Xander, Oz (when did he come back? Buffy wondered), Wesley (of all people!) and Spike!  

 

      It was the group shot of Wesley, Cordelia, another nameless blonde and *Angel* that made her slam the book closed. Obviously Angel had forgotten all about her and moved on, and *Giles*, who didn't even *like* Spike or Angel, had chosen to invite them to his wedding while leaving her out in the cold. How could he?

 

      Giles had found a wife, Angel had found a girlfriend, Xander had found a career doing...well, whatever it was that he was doing, and Willow had found an entirely new sexual orientation--and *none* of them had bothered to tell her. God, with friends like that, who needed vampires and demons?

 

      I can't believe how selfish they are, Buffy thought.

 

      She shoved the book across the table and it fell to the floor with a muffled thump. Suddenly, an idea struck her, and she jumped off the couch and headed toward the door. She still had the emergency credit card her mother had given her before she'd moved to...well, wherever it was Joyce had moved to. She didn't think she'd gone past the limit yet. There was probably enough money left.

 

      After all, how much could a ticket to Iowa cost, anyway?

 

 

END

 

FIC Futures (1/3) (Buffy)

Title:  Futures
Author:  blairprovence
Rating:  R
Character(s)/Pairing(s):  Buffy/Giles
Warnings:  Goes AU after Season 3
Disclaimer:  All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al.
Summary:  Sunnydale University's newest history professor and his young, pregnant wife navigate the treachorous waters of a faculty party.  Buffy and Giles and a semi-normal life.

Futures (1/3)
by Blair Provence

Buffy sighed tiredly and smoothed the front of her red crushed velvet dress, wondering for the thousandth time why she had insisted upon accompanying Giles that evening. It wasn't as if she had nothing else to do - Oz and Willow had practically begged her to come to Devon's party, and she knew it would have been a fun evening, if a little awkward. And Giles had offered to make her excuses, had seemed almost eager to do so, in fact...

 

Is that why I insisted on coming? Buffy thought, her fingers tightening on the plush arms of her high-backed chair. Because I thought he wanted me to stay away? Biting her lower lip, she turned her head to gaze out of the window into the crisp January night. California having the climate it did, her eyes did not behold gleaming fields of white snow, but college officials had put up a valiant - if ultimately hopeless - fight to make the campus seem more holiday-ish, stringing lights around the buildings and tying ribbons to the light poles. As a native Californian, Buffy had never really become accustomed to snow, but she was assailed by a sudden longing for it nevertheless. A field of snow, a roaring fire... She turned back toward the room and closed her eyes at the vision before her. And absolutely no sniveling, sneering roomfuls of academics.

 

She caught a glimpse of Giles through the doorway. He was standing in the corner of the dining room next to the drinks table, a slight frown on his face as he listened to the college president expound on some point or another. Only someone who knew him as well as she did could discern the bored impatience behind his calm expression. He stood ramrod straight in his dark charcoal suit, his knuckles white around the glass in his hand. He looked handsome and intelligent, but at the same time very different from the tweed-clad man she'd first come to know during her sophomore year. Upon her graduation, he'd discarded the effective armor of his high school wardrobe, and she appreciated the result, even as she experienced a pang of nostalgia for the tweed. 

 

Perhaps because the other women at the party so clearly appreciated this deliciously stylish Giles as well.

 

Not that he showed the slightest bit of interest in them beyond the requirements of his job. She knew that academic socializing was an anathema to her Watcher, but certain dues had to be paid to ensure employment security. As a junior member of the faculty, in years of continuous service if not in knowledge, it was imperative that he keep on the good side of those in power, and that meant attending their parties, no matter how boring they were.

 

And I'm making it harder for him, Buffy realized suddenly, feeling even more regretful. It was bad enough he'd been forced to become a high school librarian, a job for which he'd been vastly overqualified, but it was almost worse seeing him teach college classes that would normally be handled by marginally qualified graduate students...while being forced to make nice to more senior members of the faculty who had less knowledge in their entire brains than he did in his pinky finger. But he'd been doing it for a semester now, with a cheerful smile and no complaints, and she had still somehow managed to make it even more difficult for him.

 

I'm sorry, Giles, she thought, mentally vowing to tell him so at the earliest opportunity. Which didn't look to be soon, as another university official had joined the conversation in the corner. Sighing again, Buffy turned back toward the window, picking up her plate from the table next to the chair and studying its contents. Giles had filled it for her, admonishing her to save her strength and rest quietly in the chair. He fussed inordinately these days, not that she could blame him, but she wasn't likely to come to harm in the middle of a holiday party.

 

Not from vampires, anyway, she thought, stifling a groan as she spotted Professor Neufield heading her way. The professor was a colleague of Giles' in the history department, a tall, thin barracuda of a woman who walked about in a cloud of Chanel and expensive jewelry, her hair always exquisitely coiffed. Buffy had hated her since the moment of their first meeting, resenting mightily the way the other woman looked Giles up and down like a side of beef she was contemplating purchasing...and devouring - while at the same time treating Buffy like she was something stuck to the bottom of her spike-heeled shoe.

 

And Buffy knew she wasn't just flattering herself with the thought that her hatred was wholeheartedly reciprocated. She was not imagining the icy disdain in the other woman's eyes every time they chanced to meet. And Professor Neufield's negative attitude was hardly uncommon, though she was by far the most insultingly vocal critic of Buffy's relationship with her Watcher.

 

"Buffy, you darling child," the woman trilled, smiling a smile of perfect white teeth and absolutely no warmth. "I thought I would come make sure that you were well taken care of, as dear Rupert seems to be occupied with more important matters."

 

"He filled a plate for me," Buffy told her, smiling back with a shark's smile of her own. "He's *so* thoughtful."

 

"*Isn't* he though," Neufield agreed, evincing no outward chagrin at the failure of her opening gambit. She drew up a chair and perched on its edge, holding a champagne glass in one hand and a tiny crudite in the other. She glanced pointedly at Buffy's overflowing plate, and then her rounded stomach. "I suppose you *must* eat a great deal in your condition, mustn't you? It must be difficult for you to lose your girlish figure at such a tender age."

 

Bitch, Buffy thought, bringing a hand up to curve protectively against her belly. "Well, I'm young, I'm sure I'll bounce right back. We *younger* women have so much *energy* to burn, you know."

 

Neufield's eyelids flickered, and Buffy felt a stab of triumph at the sight. "Besides," she added, her voice syrupy sweet, "this will bring *Rupert* and I so much closer together, don't you think?"

 

Neufield lost the smile, and the blooming anger on her face robbed it of its brittle beauty. "Was that your plan, then? To trap him before he realized how incompatible you were, how little you two have in common, and how laughingly *inappropriate* you are?" Her tone was vicious, but she kept her voice low so as not be overheard. Even so, Buffy could see they were drawing no little attention.

 

Stay calm, Buffy, she told herself, determined to do no more harm to her Watcher's reputation. "Is that what you think?" she replied coolly. "In fact, he knows me very well, Professor Neufield - for over three years now."

 

Neufield blinked, clearly surprised, and Buffy mentally cursed herself for providing the woman with previously unknown information, which would only add further fuel to the fire of gossip that already surrounded her relationship with Giles.

 

"My, my, you started young, didn't you?" The unmistakable insinuation in the professor's voice caused color to bloom on Buffy's cheeks, and her hormone-imbalanced emotions once again veered wildly off-track. All plans to remain calm flew irrevocably out of the window.

 

"Look," she spat, "just because Giles wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole if you were the *last* woman on earth does not give you the right to be such a vicious *bitch*!"

 

The woman's scarlet mouth tightened angrily. "How dare you, you little tramp. You-"

 

"How dare you, Neufield!" a furious male voice interrupted, his British accent giving his statement the tone of a Biblical condemnation. "What gives you the right to attack my wife?"

 

"I did no such thing," Neufield replied, rising to her feet to face the Watcher. "The child was needlessly insulting and disrespectful, and I did nothing to warrant her insolence."

 

She's lying, Giles, Buffy wanted to protest, but she held her tongue. They'd already created quite enough of a scene. And, besides, she knew whom Giles would believe.

 

Giles glared at Neufield, clearly not buying it. "You must think I'm blind indeed not to have noticed your attitude toward Buffy. This is your only warning - leave my wife alone, or I will give you cause to regret your ill-advised behavior - to regret it a great deal." The angry hiss of his voice was reinforced by the arctic expression on his face, and Buffy was assailed by disturbing memories of Ripper, even as his protective attitude warmed her insides.

 

"Giles," she admonished, reaching for his hand. "It's all right. Really."

 

He looked down at her, his expression softening. "No, it isn't."

 

"No, it isn't," she agreed, smiling a little at his stubbornness, "but it doesn't matter, either. I don't care what she thinks, and neither do you."

 

"That much is certain," he agreed flatly, shooting another glare toward Neufield, who backed away, her expression stony. "I think it's time we should be leaving."

 

Buffy glanced about the room to find that they were the center of attention. The college president regarded her calmly, an unmistakable warning in his eyes. "I think you're right," she agreed softly, clutching Giles' arm as she levered herself out of the chair. The muted hum of conversation began again as people realized the show was over, though Buffy could still feel the weight of many eyes on her.

 

Giles put his hand to her back in an unmistakably protective gesture. She smoothed her dress over her rounded stomach and managed a genuine smile. "Wilhelmina's asleep," she added in a low voice, so only he could hear. "The tenure debate put her out like a light."

 

"She's not the only one," he replied, stifling a smile of his own as he led her toward the door. "But I thought Gertrude was the front-runner this week."

 

"Xander told me that's what people on submarines call telephones," she informed him as he began to rifle through the hall closet in search of their coats.

 

"And this is a bad thing?" he wondered, helping her into her dark woolen coat. The buttons met in front only with difficulty, so she left them alone.

 

"Mmm," she replied. She pulled her hair out from under her collar and straightened her scarf. "I just realized it's going to be hard to top Buffy and Rupert, that's all. Hey, do you know any Chinese?"

 

"Let's stick to the one alphabet, shall we?" he said, smiling. "I-"

 

"Rupert." The college president's stentorian tones interrupted their banter as he entered the foyer. "I'm so sorry you and your lovely wife have to leave the party so soon."

 

Buffy turned to face him, mustering all her determination to meet his steady gaze, all too painfully aware that, against him, she could not employ even the limited forms of retaliation available for use against witches like Neufield. She took a small step closer to Giles.

 

"Yes, well, we really aren't much for parties," Giles replied, his tone just short of blatant rudeness. Buffy could feel the tension in his frame, and abruptly began to feel much more uneasy about the conversation she'd witnessed between the two of them earlier.

 

"I quite understand." The president had yet to look away from Buffy, and she felt an uncomfortable sensation akin to a bug under a microscope. "I think we both understand, don't we?"

 

Is he talking to me?

 

"I understand perfectly, *sir*," Giles bit out through gritted teeth. "Let's go, sweetheart."

 

Obediently Buffy turned to follow, raising her eyebrows at the unaccustomed endearment, but she decided Giles must have been trying to make some kind of point. "Sir..." she echoed, and suddenly they were outside, breathing the blessedly cold clear night air.

 

They took a few steps down the walk before Giles stopped, turned to her, and pulled her into his arms. "Are you all right, Buffy?" he murmured against her hair. "I'm sorry about Neufield."

 

"I'm fine," she said, squeezing tightly. The material of his jacket was rough against her face, and she turned to rub her cheek against it. The Professor's scowling face in the window of the house caught her eye, and she was seized by a wicked impulse to stake her claim in no uncertain terms. "Just fine." She reached up to capture his face between her hands, pulling him down for a kiss. "Totally" *kiss* "completely" *kiss* "absolutely fine."

 

He smiled down at her, his cheeks reddened from the cold night air. "Let's go home."

 

 

Part 2

 

 

FIC Futures (2/3) (BUFFY)

"She was an absolute bitch, Willow," Buffy said, cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear. She lay supine on the big king-sized bed, her pink silk pajama top partially unbuttoned to reveal her swelling stomach. She rubbed the distended skin with baby oil, doing a conscientiously thorough job - after all, she didn't want stretch marks to mar her youthful figure. To hell with you, Neufield... "I finally pointed out to her that Giles would never go for someone like her, even if I *weren't* in the picture. And then I think I might have mentioned how incredibly *old* she was."

 

Willow giggled as she relayed Buffy's words to her boyfriend. Buffy could hear the indistinct murmur of Oz's reply in the background. "Sounds as if you picked the wrong party to go to," Willow said when she returned to the line. "Devon's was a blast and a half."

 

"Yeah, well..." She drew a figure eight on her gleaming skin. "When I'm with people who know me from Sunnydale High, it's like *weirdness*, you know? They all stare at me like they're trying to figure out if Giles and I were going at it behind the Art/Lit shelves during study hall."

 

Willow's reply was a choked laugh and a gulp.

 

"What? Willow?"

 

"It's nothing..."

 

Buffy frowned. "Don't give me that. I know you, Willow. What is it?"

 

Willow sighed. "It is nothing, Buffy - it's just...do you remember Lenny Stiles?"

 

"Mmm...is that Lenny-I-Never-Met-A-Joint-I-Didn't-Like from fourth period French?"

 

"That's him," Willow agreed. "He's a friend of the Dingoes new keyboard guy, and he was at the party tonight, and he...well, he'd heard some things and he asked about you."

 

"You mean he asked you if Giles and I were doing the horizontal mambo behind the encyclopedia section during senior year?" Her voice was wry, masking her embarrassment.

 

"Um, in the book cage, actually. Lenny's still a little..."

 

"Got it," Buffy replied as the door to the bathroom opened and a robe-clad Giles emerged. "Are we still on for lunch on Thursday?"

 

"Yup," Willow affirmed. "Say hi to Giles and Gertrude for me."

 

"Wilhelmina."

 

"What?"

 

"Never mind," Buffy said, smiling. "I'll see you Thursday. Tell Oz goodnight."

 

"Bye."

 

Buffy hung up the phone. "Willow says hi."

 

Giles pulled a hanger from the closet and reached for the suit coat laid out on the bed. "How was the party?"

 

"She said it went well. The record guy came, and he stayed for the whole thing, and now Devon's convinced they're gonna be the next Beatles. Get this, Oz even admitted to being 'a little bit excited.'"

 

His eyes twinkled at her sham amazement. "Oh no, I believe that's one of the signs of the Apocalypse, isn't it? I must consult my books."

 

"Not tonight, you're not," she told him, patting the space next to her on the bed. "You've already gone above and beyond the call. Time to go night-night."

 

He rolled his eyes at her as he crossed the room to flip the switch for the overhead light. "Save that for Wilhelmina, Buffy." 

 

"Mmm." She rolled ponderously on her side as Giles shucked his robe and slipped into bed next to her. "What do you think of Hortense?"

 

He levered himself up on his elbow and smiled down at her. "I think that might qualify as child abuse, actually." His smile faded abruptly, and he fell back against the pillow, closing his eyes.

 

"Hey," she said, frowning and reaching for his arm, "Hortense is out, no problem, don't worry about it."

 

He shook his head. "It's not that, Buffy."

 

She scooted toward him. "Then what is it?" He remained silent. "Hey, come on, tell me. Remember - the truth, always. We promised."

 

Sighing, he nodded and opened his eyes. "All right. I...I heard you, on the phone with Willow. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but-" Buffy cut him off, clearly chagrined.

 

"Look, Giles, I'm sorry about what I said to Professor Bitch, but she really did ask for it. I-"

 

"I take no issue with anything you might have said to Margaret Neufield," he assured her, his expression conveying his distaste for the woman. "I have no idea what her problem is, nor do I care, but she has no right to attempt to intimidate you."

 

"Don't worry about it, I don't intimidate easily," she told him, relieved that he didn't appear to be angry. "And I know what her problem is - she wants you."

 

His eyebrows flew upward. "What?"

 

Buffy rolled her eyes. "She wants you. She's drooling for your bod, she's warm for your form-"

 

"That's ridiculous!"

 

She laughed at his sputtering outrage. "Why is that ridiculous, Giles? I mean, look at her - she's totally plugged in to that whole academic thing. The college is her entire life, and Willow told me there are all sorts of rumors about her and just about every guy on the faculty. And let's face it - compared to most of them, you're practically Adonis - or at least Harrison Ford in the Indiana Jones movies."

 

Her quip made him smile. "Adonis, hmmm?" he murmured, reaching out to trail a finger along her arm.

 

"I said 'practically'," she reminded him impishly, "but I do have to admit that in this instance, her taste is impeccable. Fortunately, so is yours." She batted her eyelashes at him.

 

He leaned forward to kiss her softly. "You think so?"

 

"Yup," she breathed against his lips, flicking them with her tongue, "but don't think you're going to distract me with your manly charms. If what I said about Neufield isn't bugging you, then what's wrong?"

 

He leaned back again and stared up at the ceiling. "It was what you said...about being uncomfortable with people who know you from Sunnydale High."

 

Her brow furrowed. "Do you think I care what Lenny the Junkie thinks about us?"

 

"Was he the one who wore a Grateful Dead t-shirt to school every day?"

 

Buffy nodded. "Giles, I'm impressed. I had no idea you even knew who the Grateful Dead were...or is it 'was'? I never can keep that straight. But, yeah, him." 

 

"Well, I don't suppose you do care what he thinks. But I'm very much concerned that you feel uncomfortable with your friends."

 

"I don't," she assured him, reached out to caress his cheek with her hands. "Not my *real* friends."

 

"You would have enjoyed Devon's party much more than the president's fete this evening. But you didn't go, you came with me. Why?"

 

"I-" she turned away, afraid he'd read the truth in her eyes. "I wanted to be with you."

 

"What else?" She didn't answer. "The truth, remember?"

 

Buffy sighed. "All right." She bit her lip. "I guess I thought you didn't *want* me to go with you. And being the irrational pregnant woman that I am, of course that made me want to go."

 

He grimaced guiltily. "I don't know how it manages to slip my mind sometimes how incredibly perceptive you are." She rolled over to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow. "I *didn't* want you to go," he confessed. "I had a feeling the experience would be a decidedly unpleasant one, and I thought to spare you from it, that's all."

 

They regarded each other silently for a moment, the only sound in the room the susurration of their muted breathing. "What did the president say to you?"

 

"It doesn't matter, Buffy."

 

"I think it does," she disagreed softly. "Tell me."

 

He shook his head. "It wasn't what he said, Buffy...it was what he didn't say."

 

Buffy waited, but he added nothing further, and she rolled her eyes. "I can't believe I called *Angel* Cryptic Guy," she muttered.

 

That prompted a small smile. "Sorry. But it really isn't important, Buffy."

 

"And you know what? I might believe that if you tell me right now, but if you don't, then I'll know that it *is*."

 

He inhaled, then exhaled gustily. "Buffylogic," he muttered mimicking her tone. "All right, all right. To put it simply, there was a rumor going around the department about the opening for the Early Modern British position."

 

She leaned forward, interested. "What was the rumor?"

 

"That they were going to offer the job to me."

 

"But that's great! Isn't it? I mean, geez, Giles, you're wasted on Western Civ classes, and it would mean a ton less grading to do, right? And more money, too."

 

"It would have," he agreed gently. "They're not going to offer me the job, Buffy."

 

"Why not?" She studied his calm expression. "It's because of me, isn't it?"

 

He had to look away. "I don't know."

 

"Yes, you do," she insisted. "They didn't offer it to you because of me. But I don't understand, Giles. We've been married for months now - it's not like I was the big New Year shocker at the party."

 

"No," he agreed slowly, "but they weren't aware you were pregnant."

 

Her breath caught in her throat. "Oh, God. Oh, God, you didn't tell them? It was a secret?"

 

"No," he rushed to assure her, "Of course it wasn't. But they aren't my friends, Buffy. We don't sit around drinking tea, chatting about our lives."

 

She bit her lip and turned her head toward the wall, so he wouldn't see the tears gathering in her eyes. "I understand."

 

"No, you don't." He sighed, reached over, and hauled her up against his side. "I love you, Buffy. I love you, and I love our daughter, little Wilhelmina Gertrude Hortense. I am so proud to be with you, to have created a child with you." He kissed her silken hair. "And I will not allow the attitudes of small-minded, petty, arrogant people to sully that. I won't!"

 

She snuggled closer, winding her fingers between the buttons of his blue silk pajama top. "Okay, I really do understand now. It's like when I told Mom, isn't it? I knew she wouldn't be happy for me, and that made me...well, I understand what you mean."

 

He reached one hand down to caress her swollen belly. "What did Neufield say to you?"

 

She shook her head against his chest. "Doesn't matter."

 

"No, it doesn't," he agreed, "but I very much doubt she will be willing to let this go. I think it's best I know everything."

 

"Fair enough." She compressed her lips, trying to recall their words. "Well, she basically called me a child - a fat child - and then she accused me of getting pregnant to trap you before you figured out how wrong I was for you."

 

He muttered a curse under his breath. "Bloody interfering bitch...I'm sorry, Buffy."

 

She tightened her embrace. "Don't be. I don't care what she thinks. We know the truth."

 

"Yes, we do," he whispered, almost absently. "And the opposite is very much closer to the truth than her twisted version."

 

She frowned and raised her head to look at him. "What does that mean?"

 

He ran a hand through her hair, smoothing the rumpled silk. "It means that if any trapping were involved, it was on my part, not yours."

 

She rose up further, allowing her elbow to dig into his chest. He winced. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Giles? You didn't trap me!"

 

"It's-...I just...," he closed his eyes and sighed, "sometimes I feel I've done you a great disservice by loving you."

 

"How can you say that?" she sputtered. "*How*?"

 

He reached up to caress her cheek. "You've heard the litany, Buffy. Your mother recites it for you every time you speak to her. Your position as Slayer has already taken so many choices from you...and now, becoming my wife, having my child..."

 

"That's what choices are, Giles!" she told him, exasperated. "You pick some things, and not other things. You can't go through your entire life *not* choosing things, just to leave your options open. It doesn't work that way."

 

"But we could have waited...I could have waited."

 

"Well, *I* couldn't have!" she replied, stung. "What exactly do you think I'm missing out on, anyway, Giles? Keg parties? College boys who just want me for sex?"

 

"No, of course not. But you envy Willow at times, do you not? The freedom, the dorm, the clubs...the unknown future?"

 

She bit her lip, unwilling to admit the partial truth of his statements. "Sometimes," she said finally, hating herself for the hurt in his eyes. "But it doesn't mean anything, Giles. It's like when I look at pictures of me from my Dorothy Hamill phase, and I think that I should have held on to that Olympic dream a little longer, you know? It's just...not relevant." She kissed him softly. "And most of my feelings about the future have more to do with being afraid I won't have *this* one, not resenting the loss of some other phantom life."

 

"What do you mean?" he asked seriously.

 

"We're going to have a baby," she whispered, her eyes huge and dark. "A baby. And I'm so afraid that I won't be able to see her grow up...to see her learn to crawl, to walk...to send her off on her first day of school, to see her graduate like I did..." He reached up to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. "I want to take care of you in your doddering old age, Giles, and see you rock our grandchildren to sleep. And I'm so afraid that I won't get the chance." She buried her face in his chest, embracing him with arms of iron. "Don't think that you've taken my future, Giles. You've given me my future, and all I want now is to be able to live it! That's *all* I want."

 

"You'll have it," he whispered fiercely, hugging her for all he was worth. "I will do everything in my power to give that to you. *Everything*!"

 

"I know that - I *do*," she said, smiling through her tears. "We just have to remember how lucky we are, okay? No matter what idiotic professors, college presidents, and mothers think."

 

He looked deeply into her eyes, seeing all the love in the world contained within. "We have a bargain, then," he whispered, nodding.

 
Part 3

FIC Futures (3/3) (BUFFY)

Buffy stared down at him, conscious of the delicious feel of her silk-clad breasts against his chest, the hard lump of Wilhelmina quiescent between them, the mingling of their warm breaths as their gazes met. "Deal...then SWAK," she told him, smiling slightly.

 

"Hmmm?"

 

"Sealed With a Kiss," she explained, leaning down to cover his mouth with her own. He returned her kiss wholeheartedly, his tongue sweeping her mouth. He tasted of toothpaste and the cool tang of mouthwash, mingled with the sweet taste of pure Giles. She shifted against his chest, drawing her legs up to grind her pelvis against his, and she felt the stirring of his erection. "Or more than a kiss," she added, stifling a giggle.

 

"Are you up to it?" he asked concernedly.

 

"I think it's more a matter of whether or not you are," she replied, grinning at him.

 

He returned the smile, then shifted to the side to gently deposit her on the bedcovers. "Oh, I can probably manage," he murmured as his nimble fingers worked the button of her pajama top.

 

She returned the favor, and they both shrugged out of the smooth silk garments, tossing them to the floor. They smiled at each other, then Giles' gaze caught on something over her shoulder. "Ah, there's an idea," he murmured. "Hand me the bottle, please, Buffy."

 

She glanced over her shoulder and spied the bottle of baby oil. "Sure," she smiled, reaching for it. "Whyever do you need it?"

 

His teeth gleamed in the shadowed room. "You'll see." He took the bottle from her, flipping the top open. "Lie back."

 

"Your wish is my command," she replied, reclining against the pillow. She brought her arms up to fan her hair across the sheet, then rested the back of her head on them, grinning up at him in a combination invitation/taunt.

 

He held the bottle above her chest, allowing the cool clear liquid to drip down, splashing against her ripe breasts and rolling down the valley between them and her swollen abdomen. She inhaled sharply. "Cold," she said, in response to his questioning eyebrow.

 

"Let me warm it up, then," he murmured, setting the bottle on his bedside table. He reached out to trail his finger between her breasts, spreading the oil around so the skin could absorb it. Her areolas puckered enticingly, and he pinched them between his fingers, first the left, then the right.

 

Her breathing quickened under his ministrations, and she regarded him through half-lidded eyes, heavy with desire. He smiled at her, flattening his palm and smoothing the oil downward, then upward as his hand met the home of his child. He leaned forward to kiss the swollen lump. "Hello, Wilhelmina Gertrude Hortense. It's Daddy."

 

Buffy giggled as his warm breath tickled her skin. "I'm asleep, Daddy. Are you going to wake me up."

 

"Probably," he admitted, chuckling softly. "I want you to listen to Daddy, Baby - now, what I'm about to do to your mother, you're not allowed to let any man do to you until you're at least thirty years old, all right? And even then, I don't want to know about it. So you just close your eyes and ignore us, okay? And I'll try to get your Mum to keep the noise down, though she does like to yell a bit."

 

Buffy reached down to cover his hand with her own, the heat warmed oil making their fingers slippery. "Don't listen to him, Hortense honey. He's the one who likes to shout, especially when I make him beg."

 

"I don't beg," he disagreed as he swirled his fingers around her belly button.

 

"We'll see," Buffy said, with a passable imitation of a Mona Lisa smile.

 

He leaned over to give her a slow, drugging kiss, his hands working her breasts until she moaned into his throat. "That's it, sweetheart." He pulled away, and her moan turned into a groan of disappointment, which changed to a smile of anticipation as he crawled to the foot of the bed.

 

Giles reached for the cuffs of her pajama bottoms, nodding approvingly when she arched her hips so they could slide off with ease. He tossed them over the side of the bed to join their shirts, then hooked his arms under her knees, drawing her legs up over his shoulders. He leaned down to kiss his child again, grimacing at the slightly bitter taste of the baby oil, then trailed his lips down her abdomen to the apex of curls between her legs. A strangled gurgle emerged from Buffy's throat, and he looked up to catch her expression, stifling a laugh as he realized his child was directly in the way of his line of sight. "Are you all right up there?" he murmured through another laugh.

 

"Get on with it," Buffy said, her tone a mixture of cross and breathless.

 

He chuckled again, his breath whuffing against her curls, and he could feel the tremors running through her legs. He kissed her wet center, then lapped at her with his tongue, swirling and delving inside in an uneven rhythm that made her thighs clamp more tightly against his ears. He brought his hands up to caress and squeeze her buttocks, and another strangled moan erupted from her throat. "Giles..."

 

"You like that, do you?" Giles murmured between strokes. "How about this, then?" He brought one hand up and inserted his index finger inside her. She twisted against him and moaned louder, her hands gripping the sheets at her side.

 

"*Oh* God..."

 

He pumped her with his hand, adding another finger to her tight opening, sucking her clitoris with all his might, his cheeks hollowing out with the force of it. He knew from experience that it took only a few minutes of this pleasurable torment to bring her to the brink.

 

"Giles...*Giles*...oh, oh, *GILES*!" She yelled his name, trailing off into incoherence as she bucked against him. He held on through her powerful orgasm.

 

He'd removed his pajama bottoms and resumed his place beside her on the bed before she returned to coherence, turning her head to blink at him and offering him a drunken smile. "God, Giles, that was..."

 

"Yelling," he replied, smiling at her with arrogant satisfaction. "Definitely yelling."

 

She tried to scowl at him but was too deliciously sated to pull it off. "Oh, you're going to pay for that one, British guy. This all-American girl is going to whip your naked butt."

 

"Is that a promise?"

 

She grinned at him as she struggled up onto her elbow, reaching across him for the bottle of baby oil, allowing her full breasts to rub incitingly against his chest. "You are *so* gonna beg me, buddy."

 

"We'll see."

 

She poured a generous amount of the liquid onto his chest, swirling it among the crisp curl of hairs across his pectorals. His muscles bunched beneath her delicate touch, and his breathing quickened, the erection that had fallen to half mast springing upward again. She smiled at it, then him, before awkwardly maneuvering her leg over his chest to sit on his abdomen. She could feel the hard line of his erection against her back, and she wiggled her hips until he moaned.

 

She leaned forward to kiss him, allowing her breasts to rub the oil into his chest as she ground her body against his. The maneuver was less than graceful, as Wilhelmina's presence precluded the most sensuous moves, but Buffy knew her Watcher's body very well, and her practiced hands and lips worked their magic deftly.

 

Deciding she'd tormented him enough, she braced her hands against his upper arms and scooted down his body, and this time his moan was almost a shout as she moved past his straining penis. She ended up sitting on his knees as her oil slick hands worked their way down his abdomen to the mound of wiry hair below. She grasped his balls in her left hand, rolling them through the slick oil with ease, before bending down to lick the underside. The acrid taste of the oil made her jerk back.

 

"Tastes terrible, doesn't it?" Giles managed through gasping breaths.

 

"Mmm-hmm," Buffy agreed, massaging them with her hand again, "but they make flavored kinds of oils for this sort of thing. Like the Mocha that Cordy told me about. I’ll call her and ask her where to get it."

 

"Right this moment?" He shifted on the bed, his hands fisting in the sheets. "Are you conceding, then?"

 

"Not on your life. After all," she added, grinning wickedly, "the oil isn't everywhere..." To demonstrate, she leaned down and took him into her mouth.

 

"Oh, my..."

 

Buffy swirled her tongue around the swollen tip, then trailed it along both sides, nipping lightly with her teeth as she proceeded. Giles' expostulations became increasingly incoherent as she continued her ministrations. She wiped her hands on the sheets, then grasped the base with one hand, stroking even as she worked him with her mouth

 

She could feel the building tension inside him and she began to suck harder, determined to bring him off as intensely as he had her.

 

"Buffy, oh, God, Buffy..."

 

She paused to take a breath, her hands still working him deftly. "Is that begging, Giles?"

 

"Mmmph." She could see the conflict in his eyes, pride warring with frustration as he gripped the sheets to his sides even harder. "I want to be inside you," he finally admitted. "Now."

 

"But I wanted to-" she gestured to him, indicated her desire to reciprocate what he'd given her.

 

He half/groaned, half/laughed. "Buffy, eventually Wilhelmina's going to get so big that that might be the only way we can be together. So, while we can, I want to be inside you."

 

She stared at him, sudden hormonal tears of happiness filling her eyes.

 

He groaned again. "Do you want me to beg?"

 

She shook her head, blinking back the tears. "No, no, it's all right." She leaned forward, reaching for his hands to brace herself against. "Because I *am* going to make you yell, so we'll be even." She levered her bulky body above him, resting against the tip of his shaft.

 

"I'm looking forward to-AH!  Buffy!" he cried as she impaled herself on him and took up a fast, driving rhythm. She pressed against him, using all her internal muscles to drive him mad with wanting, and the result was evident from the yells he could do nothing to stifle. Her name, over and over. She allowed herself a satisfied smile before abandoning all thoughts of bets and triumph in favor of simply feeling.

 

Their voices rang out in harmony, mingling each other's names with moans of desire and the delicious slap of oil-covered skin to oil-covered skin. No more than a minute passed before they were both on the brink of oblivion, and their eyes opened at almost precisely the same time, sharing a soul-deep gaze of complete and utter love before their orgasms blew coherent thought away.

 

Long minutes later, Buffy rolled from his chest with a muffled sigh, not wanting to leave him so quickly, but worried about squashing her daughter. "Did you enjoy that, sweetie?" she whispered, rubbing her hand across her abdomen. "Mommy did."

 

"Daddy, too," Giles murmured, smiling without opening his eyes. 

 

Buffy snuggled against his side and kissed his chest. "Love you, Mr. Giles."

 

"Love you, Mrs. Giles."

 

 

The End

 

FIC Faith's Consequences (1/1) (BUFFY)

Title:  Faith's Consequences
Author:  blairprovence
Rating:  PG
Character(s)/Pairing(s):  Faith
Warnings:  Season 3
Disclaimer:  All things Buffy belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, et al.
Summary:   What really drove Faith to join the Mayor at the end of Consequences?  An episode gap-filler. 

by Blair Provence

 

The adrenaline-pumped overwhelming feeling of panic had finally begun to subside as Faith completed her twentieth circuit around the Sunnydale High School running track. She slowed to a walk, weaving drunkenly onto the inner circle of grass and collapsing into a tired heap. She closed her eyes and was immediately assaulted by an image of Allan the mayor's aide, staring up at her with wide, confused, pain-filled eyes as his heart's blood spilled onto the ground.

 

"Dammit!" she swore, hauling herself up onto her elbows. "Get out of my head, you fucker!" A sweaty lock of hair fell over her cheek and she swiped at it furiously. "Stupid, loser bastard! What the hell were you doing in that damn alley, anyway?" She huffed angrily and rose to her feet. "Probably on some evil mission for Mayor Wackjob - *probably* going to help Jabba the demon off Giles and Wesley-prick!" She rubbed her hands up and down her arms as the chill of the night air cooled her sweat-soaked skin. "I probably saved their lives! But does anybody care about that? Nooooooo."

 

She started across the track, heading for the gate she'd busted open earlier. "If *Buffy* had done it, they never would have pulled this shit." She glanced down at her wrists, but the abrasions from the shackles had already healed. "Angel never would have Sosa'd Buffy across the back."   

 

She winced as the mention of Angel and the baseball bat brought back a picture of the fear on Xander's face as he'd struggled under her hands. She shook the image off. "Just like the rest," she muttered angrily, stomping through the early evening dew, "gets a little skin, thinks he owns you."

 

Fucking him had been stupid, a violation of the unspoken Scooby gang rules, but she hadn't realized it at the time. And they wouldn't be forgetting - or forgiving - her transgression anytime soon. "Stupid little loser club. I don't need any of you, don't care what you think about me, about what I did..."

 

She could just imagine the horror on little innocent Willow's face, the smug disdain on Cordelia's, the oh-so-superior condescension on Buffy's...and the complete lack of expression on Giles' that somehow managed to be more horrible than the blackest fury.

 

The thought of Giles sent her mind back to the moment of reckoning in the library when she'd gone to him to tell her tale. She never would have suspected he was so good at hiding his feelings - he hadn't turned a hair when she'd told him of the homicide 'Buffy' had accidentally committed. She'd actually left the library believing that he had bought her story.

 

She halted next to the bleachers as a sudden thought struck her.   Maybe he did. Maybe he did believe me until Buffy got her claws into him.

 

After all, he knew Buffy better than he knew Faith, and so obviously he would trust her more. God knows why, Faith sniffed disdainfully, considering all the crap she’s pulled. But even if he'd accepted Buffy's version over hers, he still hadn't turned her over to the Council - that had been Wesley-prick's idea. Not that getting bashed with a baseball bat and chained up by a vampire was a vast improvement over forced deportation, but she was willing to bet that the actual plan had been Buffy's brilliant construction.

 

And Giles had tried to shield her from Wyndham-Pryce and his insane little band, even though he had no idea how crazed that bunch really was. She was under no illusions about what would have happened if she'd been taken across the water - her first Watcher had been almost brutally blunt about the downside of her new Slayer existence, which was the role the Council would play in her life. Total, complete, absolute control over even the smallest detail of her existence, something guaranteed to raise Faith's hackles, even when only applied to training and study. She'd been informed in no uncertain terms that she was far from the Council's ideal vision of a Slayer, and was starting out with more than a few strikes against her, not the least of which was ranking second-best from the get go.

 

They'd sent enforcers after her, prepared to be lethal. She shivered again with a chill that owed nothing to the night air.

 

Giles might have believed she was proceeding to prolonged incarceration, but Faith reckoned that her life-expectancy had been somewhere around two days max after setting foot in England. The Council had no use for a Slayer who couldn't perform - they would have killed her without a qualm.

 

She owed Giles for getting them to back off after her escape, though she had no idea how he'd accomplished it.

 

He was the only one, her one possible ally. And it wasn't like Buffy was the kind of Slayer he deserved, anyway - all she ever did was disappoint him. Besides, Giles was as much her Watcher as he was Buffy's, or at least he had been until Buffy had gone and gotten him fired. The bitch.

 

Giles.

 

The only one she could conceivably trust to help her find her future.

 

Squaring her shoulders, she headed toward the school. Toward the library.

 

Toward Giles.

 

 

*       *       *

Buffy contemplated the polished tabletop of the library table, her fingers absently toying with the handle of the teacup Giles had prepared for her. Her gaze flicked upward to study his drawn face. He was staring down into one of his musty tomes, deep in thought.

 

"Do you really believe that?" she asked him abruptly.

 

"Wha-What?" He looked up at her, drawing his brows together in puzzlement.

 

"Do you really think Faith stands a chance?" It wasn't the question she wanted to ask, but it came as close to it as she could manage for the moment. Do you really think I’m the one who can help her? was what she really wanted to know, to receive a little positive reinforcement to bolster her own shaky self-image. But she couldn't figure out how to phrase that question without sounding selfish, and she figured her status in Giles' eyes had taken enough of a beating over the last few days.

 

He laced his fingers together and steepled them under his chin. "She's a very disturbed girl, Buffy. Far moreso than I had ever realized, which was an unconscionable miscalculation on my part." He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Perhaps the Council wasn't ill-advised to relieve me of my duties after all."

 

"You don't mean that," she said softly. "You know that's not true."

 

He shrugged tiredly. "Sometimes I wonder. Sometimes I think all I've done is make a bloody mess of things."

 

"What, do you think you should have been more like Quentin Travers?" she asked, upset at his self-denigration. "Sending us out to die without a care in the world, certain in the knowledge that if we died...well, there are more where we came from? Because that's what Weasel Wesley thinks, I can tell."

 

"He is...young."

 

"*And an idiot! Don't tell me you don't thinks so."

 

A tired smile crossed his lips. "Well, I'm not exactly an objective judge of his character."

 

"Why should you be?" she shot back. "He took your job, Giles! And he won't listen to any of us, even though we've been living on the Hellmouth for years. He's the worst combination of ignorant and arrogant, not to mention the fact that he makes the cowardly lion look like Rambo." At his blank look, she elaborated. "Angel told me what he overheard when Balthazar had you in that warehouse, right before we came in."

 

Giles shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "What do you mean?"

 

"I mean that Wesley offered to make a deal for the amulet in order to save his kneecaps. He was willing to roll over on us. Giles, you tried to fight the Master in my place!! Wesley probably would have just said 'Seeya in the afterlife, and boy do I hope the next Slayer's a nice British chippy!"

 

"You can't know that for certain," he objected weakly. "It is impossible to know for certain what someone - anyone - is capable of doing, especially in situations of great stress." His expression darkened and he looked away.

 

Buffy frowned for a moment before comprehension dawned. "You're talking about my birthday, aren't you?"

 

He bowed his head.

 

"I'm not over that," she told him honestly, and he flinched. "I don't know if I'll ever be truly over it, just like you'll never get over some of the crap I've put you through. But Wesley would have drugged me and sent me to that mansion with a spring in his step and a song in his heart, Giles, and he never would have felt a pang of conscience for it."

 

She got up from her chair and skirted the table, stopping next to Giles and hitching her hip against the polished wood. Her gaze was intense, burning into his with the fury of brutal honesty. There was no more room for lies between them. "The only reason what you did still makes you feel so guilty is because you care so much about me. And the only reason I can't blow it off and just say 'forget it, no biggie' is because I care so much about you."

 

He nodded once, still looking miserable.

 

She took a deep breath and continued, "But no matter how mad I was at you that night, I never once wanted another Watcher. So you can sit there until the cows come home talking about how they weren't being 'ill-advised' or whatever, but I'll never believe it. I'll never agree with it. And no matter how many pompous speeches he makes, Wesley Wyndham-Price will *never* be my Watcher."

 

He blinked, a bit stunned at her vehement tone. "I didn't realize..."

 

"What?"

 

He swallowed. "I didn't realize you felt so strongly about m-...my position as your Watcher. I thought-" he paused and swallowed again, "well, you've never been shy about pointing out my flaws."

 

Her eyebrows flew upward. "And you're the soul of tact, are you? Remember me, the flighty, irresponsible non-studious type person? C'mon Giles, a few tweed jokes here and there didn't mean we didn't appreciate you."

 

His lips tightened into a grim line. "It's not about the jokes, Buffy."

 

The smile died on her own lips. "No. I know that." Oh, God, we're hitting all the low points tonight, aren't we? She braced herself to broach the next topic. "It's about Angel, isn't it? About me dating him, when you thought it was a bad idea, and me turning him into a demon, and me hiding him when he came back from hell."

 

He averted his gaze. "We all came to trust him, Buffy," he offered finally through pursed lips, "even I, who had both the knowledge and the experience to know better. And I told you the night he lost his soul that I didn't blame you, and you had my unwavering support."

 

"That was before he killed Ms. Calendar." She watched as Giles flinched, as he always did when the teacher was mentioned, and felt her usual sharp stabbing pang of guilt.

 

"I never blamed you for that," Giles replied softly, closing his eyes.

 

She swallowed with difficulty. "Not out loud, no."

 

He looked up and met her gaze squarely. "I never did, Buffy."

 

His quiet, steady voice brought tears to her eyes. "Maybe not." She swallowed again, fighting back the tightness in her throat. "But I know you think I betrayed you by hiding him when he came back from hell. And maybe you were right about that, but I've wanted to tell you...I didn't do it for the reasons you think, Giles."

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"You said I didn't trust you, or respect you or the job you do. That's not true, Giles. But..." She shook her head and sighed, wondering how to explain it to him so he could truly understand. "I saw you, you know, after everything happened. I saw all of you out in front of the school - and Willow was in a wheelchair, and Xander had a broken arm...and you, Giles. I saw what he had done to you, and I knew that it was my fault."

 

"Buffy-"

 

"No, Giles. It was my fault, and you'll never convince me any differently. He tortured you...and he enjoyed it, didn't he?"

 

Hollow bitterness echoed in his voice. "Very much."

 

She nodded, seeing the horror of those moments flash in his dark eyes. "How could I tell you that I was helping the man who'd done that to you, Giles? How could I ever justify it, or expect you to understand it? It was unforgivable. So I thought I could just...I don't know, keep you separate, or something." She dared to glance at him. "Because I had to help him, Giles. What happened to him was my fault, too."

 

"No, Buffy."

 

She shook her head. "It's how I felt, Giles. And I thought if I could just help him, and not hurt you in the process, that it would make up for some of the pain I caused." She shrugged tiredly. "It didn't work out that way, though."

 

"No," he replied dryly. "But...thank you for explaining that. It does help somewhat. And you aren't to hold yourself responsible for my pain, Buffy."

 

"But you're the one who always pays for my mistakes, aren't you? Whenever I screw up, you get hurt. Whenever I make a bad decision, you pay the price." A few tears spilled over, streaking down her cheeks. "Why, Giles? Why do you stay when all I do is hurt you?"

 

His eyes darkened with emotion. "Because even with all of the problems - the Hellmouth, the vampires and evil witches, the seriously overweight demons...Cordelia-" his smile flashed fleetingly before vanishing behind a serious, steady, unwavering regard "-even...even with what happened to J-Jennie...there is no other place on earth where I can imagine living my life. It's not even a matter of choice anymore, Buffy. I don't think I could leave even if I wanted to."

 

She choked on a sob. "But why?"

 

He reached up to touch her cheek, lightly, with two fingers, answering tears glinting in his own eyes. "Because, my dear girl, here is where you are. And there's no place on earth I'd rather be."

 

She let out a strangled cry and reached down to embrace him fiercely, burying her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her as she settled in his lap and held her close as she cried. "Shh, Buffy. It's all right. Everything's all right." He gently kissed the top of her blonde head.

 

"I know it's selfish," she sobbed into his shoulder, "I know I don't deserve it - but promise you won't leave, Giles. Promise me."

 

"I promise, Buffy. I'll never leave you." He framed her face with his hands, smiling tenderly down at her as he smoothed away her tears with his thumbs. "We're a team, you and I. Where you go, I go. I'll never leave."

 

She nodded up at him, smiling through the tears. "A team," she whispered, hugging him close again. "We're a team."

 

Faith backed away from the library entrance, slowly lowering the clenched fist that had held one swinging door open a few scant inches moments before. The picture of Buffy in Giles' arms was burned into her mind, echoing with the sound of his voice -'We're a team you and I...We're a team...Where you go, I go...I'll never leave you...

 

For Buffy. Everything for Buffy. Always for Buffy.

 

Slowly her fists unclenched as she fought to control her harsh breathing. The measure of calm she'd managed to attain on the track seemed as distant as the moon as her mind raced with pictures of her recent life in Sunnydale - all the moments when she'd been made to feel second-rate, the little slights, the thoughtless put-downs. While Buffy had her home, her school, her friends, her mother...her *Watcher* - perfect little Buffy with her perfect little life, and all she ever did was whine...

 

Faith had tried, she really had. She'd tried to live it their way, to be loyal, reliable and trustworthy, to look out for the weak, to fight the good fight. But if her life thus far had taught her anything, it was that Faith could only depend on Faith. And she had to look out for herself, because nobody else would.

 

Nobody.

 

It was time for a new plan.

 

END